Consumed
by kedavra97
Summary: To be devoured, squandered, or destroyed. No time travel. AU. Dark, possessive Tom.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi everyone! I've basically been "that anon" who lurked around this site for years, leaving guest reviews everywhere and never bothering to make an account. I got into Tomione a few years ago, and just recently I had an insane urge to write my own fic. I've always had all these plotlines in my head of things I wished would happen, so I figured that I might as well take this ship into my own hands and write my own fic. **

**That being said, since this is my first fic, I'd love any and all feedback on it! I honestly don't know where I'm going with it, but I do know that this isn't going to be a short or lemony fic. It's gonna be dark, fellow Tomione shippers. So any suggestions that you might have are welcome!**

* * *

"Tom," a voice whispered in the darkness. "I know you're listening!"

"_What_," Tom snapped.

"You know I can never sleep when it's storming like this! Please, let me sleep in your bed," Hermione pleaded.

"We're not babies anymore. We're 11 years old – practically grown-ups – so start acting like it."

Hermione heard Tom's cold voice in the darkness and shivered. He could be so mean sometimes.

Ever since she was dumped on the doorstep of Wool's Orphanage as a toddler, the only other child she was able to grow close to was Tom. Which was funny, given how odd the boy was.

But Hermione and Tom found a sense of kinship in their oddities. In their younger years, she and Tom preferred to read instead of play outside with the other children. For as long as she could remember, there was a distinction between them and the rest of the orphans. And it seemed that Tom was perfectly fine with keeping her all to himself.

Their closeness was a bit worrisome to Mrs. Cole, the head matron of the orphanage. She often pulled Hermione aside and encouraged her to connect with other children, particularly other girls.

Tom kept that from happening. Hermione was his. _His_. Until the day she arrived he had felt no need for things as trivial as friends. Tom recognized and took pride in his brilliance and knew that he was set apart from the rest of those dunces.

But with Hermione, Tom found the companion he never knew he needed. She was smart, although not as smart as himself, she liked to read, and she was a curious learner. She was the perfect intellectual challenge.

She was also annoyingly afraid of inconsequential things, like the noises caused by the occasional storm.

Tom watched Hermione fidget in the darkness of his room.

"Fine," he sighed. "But if we get caught by Mrs. Cole, it's your fault."

"Yay!" she exclaimed, before quickly covering her mouth at Tom's glare. "Thank you, Tom!" Hermione whispered, crawling into the threadbare twin bed. She wrapped her arms around his body, which was thin from years of eating the slop that the orphanage tried to pass off as nutritious food.

Tom stiffened slightly, and then relaxed. "We could do anything!" Hermione whispered excitedly. "We could read, or play a game, or try to see who can-"

"_We_ are not doing anything but going to bed. Or would you rather go back to your room?"

Hermione pouted. "You're such a spoilsport."

Tom smirked, and slowly drifted off to sleep. Hermione groggily tried to stay awake so that she could observe Tom's peaceful, relaxed face, but she too fell asleep.

* * *

Tom woke before Hermione as usual. She was a heavy sleeper and was definitely not a morning person. Tom got out of bed and stretched his limbs. After a couple minutes getting ready for another _enthralling_ day at the orphanage, he checking in again on Hermione, and chuckled when he saw her still sprawled across his cot.

"Hermione. Wake up. We'll be late for breakfast," he said, poking her in the side.

"Hmmrrrf," Hermione groaned. She rolled over so she wouldn't have to witness the glare that was sure to form on Tom's face.

"_Hermione_. Get up and get dressed, now."

Recognizing his "scary" voice, Hermione sluggishly emerged from the cot and glowered at Tom. She stepped outside of his room and into her own to get dressed.

Hermione had come to recognize the two sides of Tom Riddle. Sometimes he was nice and lighthearted, and she could joke around with him like any other 10 year old. But other times, he was meaner and used his scary voice.

Hermione quickly made her way down the orphanage's main staircase and slipped inside the "cafeteria", which could more accurately be described as a dilapidated room with a few shaky tables and chairs.

Ignoring the mass of children clustered at the tables in the center of the room, Hermione made her way over to _their spot_, which is what the other children called Tom and Hermione's table off in the corner.

Tom was already seated, reading a copy of The Daily Herald. He didn't look up as she sat down.

"I can't understand how you never get tired of reading the paper," Hermione said. "It's boring. And that's coming from a bookworm."

"It's better than that fantasy rubbish you love to read," Tom replied without looking up. "What's the purpose of reading a story that won't benefit you at all in the real world? Besides," Tom scoffed, "it's important to keep up with current events."

"Says who?" Hermione snorted. She enjoyed reading fictional works that transported her far beyond the confines of the dreary orphanage. She even enjoyed reading textbooks, which the other children laughed at her for. But one thing she could not stand to read was the newspaper.

The lighthearted debate continued until Hermione felt something cold and wet sliver down her neck. She whipped her head around, and the movement finally caught Tom's attention.

Her eyes focused on Amy Benson standing right behind her, and a couple of the girls' friends, who were giggling maniacally at a nearby table.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Amy said sarcastically. "Since beavers love water, I figured you'd like some, too."

At her stupid joke, the giggling in the room mounted to loud laughter. Hermione felt her cheeks burn and her eyes sting. Honestly, she was still growing into her two front teeth. She was only 11 for goodness sakes!

Tom, who had been quietly observing the situation, abruptly stood up. Amy's laughter died out.

"I thought I'd made it clear last week that you should stop teasing Hermione. I hope for your sake that you sleep with one eye open," he said, eerily quiet.

Amy's eyes widened, and she at least had the nerve to look afraid. Billy Stubbs, who was a year older and had a crush on Amy for several months, walked over and pulled the girl behind him.

"Leave her alone, _freak_," he spat. "Get lost, and take Broomhead with you."

Tom's hands clenched into fists. Hermione could see them shaking as his knuckles turned white. Sensing he was about to have another outburst, she quickly grabbed his hand.

"They aren't worth it," she whispered. "Come on, I'm not hungry anyways."

Tom allowed himself to be led out of the cafeteria and back upstairs, into his room. Once inside, he released her hand and stomped around the room, fuming.

"Tom, you can't let them get to you like that," Hermione said worriedly. "Remember what happened during your last outburst? Micah was really badly hurt."

Outbursts were what they called Tom's random bouts of anger, which almost always brought on some sort of odd event. A few weeks prior, Tom had lost his temper when a boy named Micah was teasing him, and Micah had happened to fall down a flight of stairs. No one placed the blame on Tom, since he had been standing several feet away at the time. But from the disturbing grin on his face as he walked away, Hermione knew he had something to do with it.

"I don't care. They both deserve to pay," Tom said with finality. Then a slow smirk spread across his face.

"Please tell me you aren't planning any payback. I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"_I don't want anyone to get hurt,"_ he said in a mock high-pitched voice. "You sound so stupid. They crossed the line and they will face the consequences when we go on that beach trip in two weeks."

Hermione felt a little hurt, not to mention apprehensive. She didn't like Tom when he was like this.

Tom must have noticed her sad expression, because he sighed and took her hand. "Look, I didn't mean to snap at you," he said.

Hermione glowered at him. Tom sighed again at her stubbornness. "Look," he tried again, "if you stop with that stupid pouting, I'll let you sleep in here again tonight."

At this, Hermione perked up enormously.

That night, she succumbed to sleep quickly in his warm arms, with Tom rubbing her mass of curly hair softly. Tom stayed awake, a slow smirk spreading across his face as he contemplated how to exact his revenge.


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter is left unedited, since I liked the original. The story will change from here on out (or perhaps after chapter 3).**

**Thanks to magicmidnightstorm, Cassie-D1, i cant login, sdrlana21, PinkSlytherin, and Voorpret for reviewing the last chapter!**

* * *

For a fortnight Tom spent his nights awake, planning how his revenge at the beach would pan out.

For a fortnight he found himself dreaming about Billy Stubbs and Amy Benson sobbing, begging for mercy as he relentlessly tortured them. The only thing that took him a while to decide upon was the method of torture.

And after a fortnight of planning, he was ready to carry out the plan.

Hermione watched the sick smile on Tom's face with unease. It had been like this for the past two weeks – out of nowhere, Tom would get this strange smile on his face. It was disconcerting.

"Could you stop smiling already?"

"Don't I have the right to be happy?" The grin was still ever-present on his face.

"We all know you aren't a jolly fellow. So quit it; it's _creepy_," Hermione said.

Tom rolled his eyes.

"Alright children, time to pile into the bus!" Mrs. Cole called out over the din of the cafeteria.

At her announcement, the stupid children let out a noise of excitement. _They won't be that excited on the way back_, Tom thought to himself, chuckling.

Hermione gave him another look of concern.

"You know, if I wasn't your best friend and didn't know how weird you can be, I'd be pretty perturbed by your freaky smiling and laughing," Hermione said.

Tom rolled his eyes again. "Just save me a seat on the bus. I forgot something."

Hermione instantly became suspicious. Tom Riddle did not _forget_ things. He meticulously planned every detail of his life. But she didn't have much time to dwell on her suspicion as she had to move with haste to save two seats on the bus.

* * *

Tom climbed onto the bus last, setting his bag down on the seat before sitting down.

Hermione forgot to question Tom about the item he "forgot" after seeing the bus drive out from the orphanage parking lot and into the street. She'd seen London, sure, but on the hour-long ride out to the sea, she was enraptured by the beautiful expanse of rolling hills and forests outside her window. It wasn't every day that an orphan got to travel outside of the city.

When they finally arrived at the beach, the children were itching to get outside. Even Hermione was bouncing in her seat.

"You look constipated."

Hermione glared at him. "Shut up. I know you're excited to get in the water, too."

Oh, he was excited all right. But it had nothing to do with the water.

Hermione spread out her beach towel on the sand. She sat down on it, and motioned for Tom to sit as well. Tom sat, needing to kill time anyway before he could set Phase 1 of his plan in motion.

"Wanna build a sandcastle?"

"No."

"Wanna get in the water?"

"No."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Sandcastle it is, then." She began collecting sand in her hands and dumping it into a bigger pile.

"You do that," Tom said with a smirk. He estimated that about 15 minutes had passed, so it was time to get started. "I have to use the bathroom. I'll be back in a minute."

"Whatever," Hermione said, waving her hand dismissively.

Tom picked up his bag and walked along the length of the beach, far from the shore. His eyes scanned the surrounding area, looking for a secluded spot.

_Perfect_, he thought, his eyes landing on what appeared to be a cave.

He jogged over to it, briefly exploring its depths. It was extremely dark, with an equally black lake in the center.

"What are you doing?" a voice asked suspiciously from the opening of the cave.

Tom squinted in the darkness, before the light filtering in from outside illuminated the person's figure.

"I should be asking you the same question, Hermione. Shouldn't you be back at the shore, making your stupid sandcastle?"

"I knew you were up to something, so I followed you. Now, tell me what's going on or I swear I will scream as loud as I can," Hermione said, squaring her chest.

"You wouldn't dare," Tom glared.

"Try me," she said nonchalantly.

Tom seemed to consider something, and then he let out a huff of air, his anger mounting.

"I'm getting back at those two dimwits, Benson and Stubbs."

"Tom! You promised you wouldn't plan any payback!"

"I did no such thing," Tom scoffed. "Besides, aren't you tired of those two constantly teasing you?"

"Yes," Hermione said tentatively, "but-"

"No 'buts.' Unlike you, I'm not going to live my life as someone else's doormat."

Hermione stomped her foot. "I am _not _a doormat!"

"Oh yes, you are," Tom said smugly. "You let those two walk all over you, and you never do anything about it. You don't even try to insult them back."

Hermione looked down at her feet, feeling deflated. _It was true,_ she thought. Whenever Billy or Amy teased her, she only focused on not bursting into tears in front of everyone.

"Well, unlike _you_, I don't want to see them hurt," Hermione said firmly.

"Trust me, no physical harm will befall them."

"You promise?"

"Promise."

"Fine. Then I won't scream and get Mrs. Cole."

Tom smiled at her. "But there is one thing I need you to do."

"What?" Hermione asked, looking wary.

"I need you to scream Amy's name, as loud as you can," Tom said.

"Why?"

"_Because_," Tom said impatiently, "the curious little dolt will come running toward the cave, and then that love-struck fool will follow her."

"And you promise you're not gonna hurt them?" Hermione asked again, needing reassurance.

"Hermione," Tom started, impatient.

"Okay, okay." She took a deep breath. "AMY!" she screamed.

Tom waited in anticipation, and sure enough, within minutes they heard a few voices coming from outside of the cave.

"Amy, I don't know about th- woah, check out this cave!" Billy exclaimed. "Let's explore it!"

"Billy," Amy said hesitantly, "I'm … scared of the dark."

"Don't worry, I'm right here beside you," Billy said with a smile. _This is the perfect situation to get closer to her,_ he thought smugly.

They ventured deeper into the cave, before stopping several yards away from Tom. The boy in question emerged from the darkness, with Hermione a few steps behind him, looking pale.

"I told you I would have my revenge," Tom said quietly.

"Billy," Amy said frightened, grabbing his arm, "Let's just get out of here."

"No. Maybe now's the perfect time for me to show this freak his place," Billy said, puffing out his chest. He could kill two birds with one stone; he'd beat up Riddle and show the boy who truly ran the orphanage, and he'd impress Amy with his strength.

Tom, meanwhile, was lifting something small and furry out of his bag. Hermione saw what it was, and gasped. _Amy's rabbit. _

It didn't take long for Amy to notice what Tom was holding. "What are you doing with Mr. Fluffy! Give him back!" she shrieked.

Tom chuckled quietly, and pulled something silver and shiny from his pocket.

He held the knife up so that everyone in the cave could see the weapon.

"When you hurt what is mine, I hurt what is yours," Tom said, in his eerie quiet voice.

In the years to come, Hermione would never be able to forget the sight of Tom holding the flayed, mangled rabbit. Billy and Amy were even more profoundly affected by the event.

Tom had sworn them both to secrecy – through more disturbing threats, of course. And Billy had gotten his wish of being closer to Amy. The two bonded through the secret suffering they were forced to endure from that traumatizing experience.

Hermione didn't talk to Tom for weeks after the _event_. He pleaded with her, saying that he kept his promise since he didn't physically harm Billy or Amy.

Tom's desperation and frustration mounted after two weeks of being ignored by Hermione. What right did she have to ignore him? She belonged to him. She was _his_, and no one else's. And besides, his whole plot of revenge had been to defend _her_ honor!

Just like Billy and Amy, she would learn her place.

* * *

Hermione began talking to Tom again in a way neither child expected.

Although Billy and Amy hadn't told a soul about what happened, Mr. Parker, one of the older workers at the orphanage, began suspecting Tom had something to do with the drastic change which had suddenly befallen them.

The boy was incredibly odd, and Mr. Parker sensed something off about him. Mr. Parker prided himself in being a proper Christian, and in Tom he felt what could unmistakably be described as an evil spirit.

As time passed, he grew more and more certain that Tom was behind Billy and Amy's traumatic silence. And so one evening, he took Tom into his office and beat him mercilessly with a switch.

Although she had been ignoring Tom, Hermione couldn't help but notice his absence the following day in the cafeteria.

Against her stubborn will, she went to Tom's room to find out what was keeping him from eating.

What she saw shocked her to her core.

Tom was lying in bed on his stomach, his back a mass of fresh bruises and dried blood.

"Tom!" Hermione gasped.

Tom turned his head and managed to mutter, "Close the door."

Hermione obliged and rushed to his side.

"What happened to you?!"

"Mr. Parker happened. The old coot thought it his duty to punish me for whatever he assumes I did to Benson and Stubbs," Tom said, still managing a bitter tone despite his pained expression.

Hermione tore off a piece of cloth from Tom's orphanage uniform – which was a raggedy gray tunic – and pressed it to an open wound on his back.

Tom hissed in pain. "Shh," Hermione whispered. "I'm going to take care of these wounds as best I can. But we have to tell Mrs. Cole about this."

"You think that old hag would actually do something? She knows he's abused other children and she still let him stay. She certainly isn't going to have him fired for _me_," Tom spat.

"Well," Hermione said exasperatedly, "we'll figure something out. That man is despicable."

Tom couldn't understand why, but when Hermione had walked into the room and looked so alarmed at his state, he felt good. Happy, even. It was nice to know that even if she was mad at him, or ignoring him for weeks, she still cared. She still knew to whom she belonged.

* * *

**A/N: How'd y'all feel about "scary" Tom? And remember, he's only going downhill from here *evil laughter*. Free cyber cookies to everyone who reviews!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey everyone – sorry for the wait! This chapter is loooong :)**

**Sorry to previous readers, but this chapter is partly the same, with some tweaking and two added scenes. From here on out it will definitely be totally brand new.**

**Thank you soooo much for all the amazing reviews! Thank you to:**

**Bookworm, dark-wolf-howl, Sweet163, leeleepupu, sdrlana21, Sasha404, PinkSlytherin, TheAlabasterPhoenyx, magicmidnightstorm.**

**And if it's not clear in the chapter, this is taking place in mid-August.**

* * *

Hermione woke abruptly, jolting herself out of her most recent nightmare. She sat up panting and covered in sweat.

Always the same nightmare. Always the same hooded figure.

She shuddered and stretched her legs. If she grew any more, which she inevitably would, she would have trouble fitting in her cot.

Since the event at the beach over the summer, the other children stayed far away from Tom, and by extension Hermione. Hermione felt their wary glances at her during meal times.

_"See," Tom would gloat in his know-it-all way, "I told you the only way to earn their respect is to stand up for yourself."_

_"And mutilating a rabbit is standing up for yourself?" Hermione would hiss back._

_Tom scoffed. "Come now, Hermione. How many girls have teased you since last summer?"_

_"None," Hermione grudgingly admitted._

_Tom smirked and raised his eyebrows, as if to say "You see."_

A lot had changed in a month. Tom's voice was showing the first sign of puberty – Hermione always giggled when it cracked slightly. Tom always gave her a murderous glare.

Hermione's hair had stupidly gotten even more untameably frizzy. Whenever Tom cracked a joke about it, Hermione would kick him in the shin.

But the biggest development wasn't a physical one. It had happened when Tom and Hermione were out in the streets of London. Mrs. Cole allowed small groups of children to go out occasionally, with a chaperone of course. Fortunately for them, the group Tom and Hermione were in had a 16-year-old chaperone who cared more about her nails than about the wellbeing of the children. She certainly never noticed the two odd kids sneak off by themselves.

* * *

Hermione loved "window-shopping", or looking into shop windows at all of the things she wished she could have. Tom used to enjoy it too when they were younger, but now he was much more bitter when she dragged him along.

"What's the use of staring at things I'm too poor to buy?" he'd say.

Hermione just grabbed his hand and continued dragging him along.

As they walked, they talked about any topic that came to mind. Currently, they were engaged in a debate about whether or not there would be an impending war with Germany. Tom thought there would be war, Hermione was indecisive.

"Ooh," she stopped in her tracks, interrupting Tom. "Look at that!"

Tom stopped and peered inside the shop window, and as he expected, there laid a glossy book.

She turned to him and gave him her best puppy-dog look. "Can we please please _please_ go inside?"

"No," Tom said coldly. If there was anything he hated, it was the pitying looks from other shoppers as they looked down at their ratty clothing.

Hermione wasn't fazed. "If you go inside with me, I'll let you borrow my astronomy textbook." She had saved up for months to get that textbook, which Tom had only caught a glimpse of.

She could tell he was wavering, and internally rolled her eyes. _It's a good thing he can't stand not knowing everything_, she thought.

"Deal. But I get to keep it for as long as I want."

"One month," Hermione said.

"Two."

"Fine," she huffed, "now come on!"

The shop door jingled as the two children walked through the door. Hermione's eyes went wide as saucers as she took in all of the bookshelves lining the walls.

"I could spend ages in here!" she gasped.

Even Tom was impressed, but he wasn't fool enough to stand around with his mouth open like Hermione. "Well, let's go see that book you were so bloody excited about."

They walked over to the stand at the front of the store where the book laid. Hermione picked it up carefully - _like the bloody thing was a baby, _Tom thought scathingly - and flipped through the pages, transfixed by the crisp new text.

"I didn't know you allowed little street rats into your store, Mr. Bartleby," an obviously wealthy woman said, her nose upturned in disgust. She grasped her child's hand in her finely tailored fur gloves. Tom and Hermione's heads whipped around.

"These children," she said, gesturing to Tom and Hermione, "obviously don't belong in a bookshop when they clearly cannot afford anything here."

Mr. Bartleby, the shopkeeper, looked clearly uncomfortable. He didn't have anything against two children having a look around his shop, but he also did not want to offend his wealthiest patron. His expression was torn.

Hermione didn't need to turn to Tom to feel his anger rolling off him in waves. But this time, he wasn't the only one angry. _Who was this woman to deny a couple of kids from reading?_ Hermione thought, infuriated. Her clenched fists shook, and she felt angrier than she'd ever been.

No one could understand what happened next. One moment, Hermione was glaring at the woman, and the next, the woman lay unconscious under a toppled bookshelf.

Of course, there was no way to blame the incident on Hermione, who had been standing several feet away from both the bookshelf and the woman. She and Tom had quickly scurried out of the store amidst the shopkeeper's panicked apologies.

When they were safely back on the city street, Tom pushed Hermione against a wall.

"What was that?" he said tightly.

Hermione tried to swallow some of her shock, but it stuck in her throat like stew at the orphanage. "I- I don't know. I just felt so angry... and then the bookshelf fell."

A glare formed on Tom's face.

"What are you so angry about?" Hermione said, pushing herself slightly off the brick wall. "So I had an outburst. You have them too!"

"That's just it," Tom said through gritted teeth. "_I'm_ supposed to be the only one who can make these things happen. _I'm_ the special one." His hands clenched into fists. "You toppled a bookshelf - the most I've done is lift objects," he seethed. He abruptly turned to watch the busy street.

"Tom, you don't need to be jealo-."

Tom whirled around. "Who said I'm jealous?" Hermione could detect the first signs of a full-blown rage in Tom's infuriated eyes.

His furious glare morphed into a sneer. "Don't ever think I'd be jealous of something like you," he said derisively, letting his eyes roll down to her scuffy shoes and back up to her teary caramel eyes.

Hermione sniffled. She looked down at her feet. _Don't cry. He's just trying to make you feel like this. Don't cry._

"Come on, we should be going," he said coldly, uncaringly wrenching her arm to drag her back to the orphanage.

* * *

Hermione and Tom entered into another period in which they didn't speak to each other. Hermione thought Tom expected her to still sit with him in the cafeteria, and when he saw Hermione sit off with the rest of the girls, his fury grew ten-fold.

He cornered her after lunch - as she expected - and pushed her against a wall as the rest of the children went outside for their exercise period.

"Why are you avoiding me? You can't ignore me."

"You hurt my feelings."

"Are you still upset about that? Don't be such a baby."

Hermione yanked her arm out of Tom's grip. "I'm never talking to you again until you apologize!"

Tom sighed at her dramatics. "Fine. Sorry."

"You've got to mean it!"

He softened his eyes and leaned a hand out to stroke her cheek. "I'm sorry, Hermione. Truly."

Hermione sighed and stared at her feet. "I forgive you."

After his initial jealousy wore away, Tom felt a greater connection with Hermione, since just like him, she could do weird things. It was more fun having Hermione there with him - someone who _understood_ him and his oddities.

They kept their outbursts as secret as possible and took solace in the fact that no one ever took notice.

But one day someone did.

And that was how they found themselves in their current predicament, sitting on Tom's bed and watching a middle-aged, auburn-haired, bearded man walk into the room.

"Mrs. Cole said you wanted to speak with us," Tom said, his voice curt and level.

"That I did," the man said cheerfully, a twinkle in his eye.

"Are you some doctor … or a psychologist?" Hermione asked a bit defensively, eying his odd clothing. She was not going to let this man ship her or Tom off to an asylum.

"No child, I am simply a professor who has come to talk to you about your admittance into our school," the man said with a smile. "My name is Professor Dumbledore."

Hermione felt the man was a bit less of a threat, but Tom looked as defensive as ever.

"I teach at a school called Hogwarts," Dumbledore said. "And Hogwarts is a school for witches and wizards."

At this, even Tom looked surprised. But his surprised expression soon morphed into the blank mask he always wore.

Dumbledore looked at the children knowingly. "Haven't you wondered why you two can make odd things happen, things the rest of the children here cannot make happen? You are using magic."

Tom scoffed. A life of bitterness in the orphanage had crushed any sense of optimism he may have had. The whole thing seemed too absurd – something straight out of Hermione's dumb fairytales. The man was a doctor from the asylum - he was sure.

"If you're a professor at this so-called magical school, prove it," Tom challenged. "Show us some magic."

In the blink of an eye, Tom's wardrobe caught fire. Both Hermione and Tom's eyes widened.

In that same instant, the fire went out, and the wardrobe appeared untouched. Even Tom could not muster an expression of indifference after such a feat.

"Thievery is not tolerated at Hogwarts, Tom," Dumbledore said gravely, handing Tom the box hidden within the wardrobe of things he had stolen from other orphans over the years.

Tom took the box, his expression contrite. Dumbledore eyed him shrewdly. The man reached into his weird magenta robes and pulled out two pieces of odd-looking paper.

"These are your letters to Hogwarts. You'll find a list of necessary materials for the school year on it, all of which you can purchase in Diagon Alley."

Hermione looked down, feeling deflated after so much excitement. "Professor, we don't have the money to buy school materials."

"Not a problem, Hermione," the man said warmly. "Hogwarts has a fund for needy students. You need not worry about being able to afford books or robes and such. I've allocated enough money for you both to get all of the necessary supplies."

He procured two pouches out of his pocket, and handed one to each child. "In these you will find galleons, which is the magical currency," he explained. "I would be more than happy to show the two of you around Diagon Alley and accompany you on your shopping trip."

Hermione was about to eagerly respond with a "Thank you!", but Tom cut her off.

"That will be unnecessary. Hermione and I are more than capable of finding our way around … sir," he added as an afterthought.

Dumbledore observed Tom. Tom matched his gaze. "Very well," he said. "You'll find directions on how to find Diagon Alley attached to your acceptance letters. I wish you luck at Hogwarts. See you September 1st," he said cheerfully, before bidding farewell and departing.

As soon as the door was shut, and they peered down the staircase to make sure the professor was gone, Hermione looked at Tom in wonderment.

"Imagine! We'll get to leave this place to go to a magical boarding school! It's like something out of my books!"

Tom shushed her. "According to this, we'll only have to return here for summer break," he said. For the first time since Dumbledore walked in, Tom privately allowed himself to feel some of the joy and excitement that Hermione was feeling.

Hermione peered at the list of supplies. "We'd better go tomorrow to buy these," she said. "I can't wait to see what the magical world is like!"

Tom didn't reply, but inwardly, he couldn't wait either. He always knew that he was special, and here was the proof.

"Tomorrow," he agreed.

* * *

"Tom," Hermione whispered. "Are you awake?"

"Now I am," he hissed back.

Hermione shifted comfortably in Tom's arms, although she felt quite squished in the small cot. Soon they would be unable to sleep in the same bed, unless Wool's miraculously invested in larger cots.

"I still can't believe it," she whispered.

"Neither can I."

"What do you think it'll be like?"

"Go to bed, Hermione," Tom ordered.

He could just picture her rolling her eyes. But luckily, she stopped trying to make conversation.

That night, for the first time since he befriended Hermione, Tom fell asleep with a smile on his face.

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**How'd you guys like the chapter? Please review! I literally refresh every second to see the comments you guys leave me, so please make my day! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**First off, SO SORRY for making you all wait 200 years for this update. What really pisses me off is I'm a huge hypocrite. I'm that angry reviewer who always rants at writers for making me wait, and yet I just did that to you guys. My b. I tried to make this chapter way long to make up for it.**

**But now that I'm done with the SAT's, I hope to update every Friday. **

**So stunned at the amazing response for the last chapter! **

**Thank you to: ****Icarus, LadyRana, 555, TheAlabasterPhoenyx, Yuuki Kuchiki, sdrlana21, Cassie-D1, .Me, magicmidnightstorm, Bookworm, ellebelle12, LK-HoGwArTs-hEaDgIrL, DauntlessSlytherinTribute, PinkSlytherin, CassieRenee333, KhaalidaNyx, Guest, Eimhear93, and Guest.**

* * *

"You're reading it wrong!"

"Shut up," Tom replied, although he too stared at the map frustratedly.

"It should be here! See, right here," he said, jabbing an annoyed finger at the red dot where the words "Diagon Alley" were scribbled.

Hermione and Tom had circled the same street, Charing Cross Road, four times. They were supposed to be looking for some place called the Leaky Cauldron.

"Maybe we should ask someone for direc-"

"Ask someone for directions? Are you _mental_?" Tom sneered. Hermione's eyes abruptly found her feet. "So we'd just stop some passerby and say 'hello sir, could you please direct us to a wizarding world we're not even sure exists?' Are you trying to get us locked up in an asylum?"

"I'm just trying to help!" Hermione yelled with a glare furrowing her brows, which deepened when Tom had the nerve to shush her.

"Maybe this is just some elaborate prank," Tom said, knowing it would crush Hermione's stupid hope. A cruel smile spread slowly across his devilish features. "Dumbledore is just some old man off his rocker trying to lead us on a wild goose chase."

Hermione frowned, her eyes pricking with tears. "Magic is real," she whispered. Her spine straightened. "I know it," she said confidently.

This whole mess was Tom's fault, wasn't it? Hermione watched with annoyance as Tom's shrewd eyes traveled over the map, and then swiveled around the street. If he had just accepted the professor's offer to guide them on their first trip to Diagon Alley, _like any normal person would've_, they wouldn't be in this predicament. Hermione opened her mouth to angrily voice this thought when Tom suddenly pointed a finger.

"There it is!" he said, pointing at a shady-looking pub.

Hermione squinted, trying to read the faded lettering on the ancient-looking sign. "The Leaky Cauldron," she breathed.

"Come on," Tom said, grabbing her hand. They hastily moved toward the entrance of the pub. Just as Hermione was about to twist the doorknob, Tom pulled her arm back.

"What?" Hermione said, turning around.

"I just wanted to go over something with you before we enter the wizarding world," Tom said. His expression was very serious.

Hermione crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently. "Alright, shoot."

"Never let anyone know we come from an orphanage," he said, eyes flint as rock.

"Why? I don't want to hide where I come from," Hermione said defiantly.

Tom rolled his eyes. "It isn't about hiding anything. We know next to nothing about this new world we're going to live in. I know you idiotically like to trust absolutely everyone you meet-"

"I don't trust every-"

"But," Tom said loudly, "you must be extra careful here. It wouldn't be wise to tell people that we come from the normal world and that we grew up in an orphanage."

"So you're saying I should lie?"

"I'm saying you should be smart. Don't reveal everything about yourself," he commanded. "We may not be able to hide that we come from the non-magical world, but we sure as hell don't have to tell anyone we're orphans."

Hermione mulled it over. "Fine. But what am I supposed to say if people ask about my upbringing?"

"Just say you grew up in a family," Tom said, not able to squeeze all of the bitterness out of his voice at the word "family." He waved a bored hand, adding, "With two loving parents, maybe a sibling, a dog or a cat and all that."

"Okay," Hermione nodded. "Now can we please go in?"

Tom smirked, already twisting the knob. The old wooden door swung open with a creak, revealing a dimly lit place that looked like a mixture of a pub and a restaurant.

Hermione looked all around, taking in the magical people going about their daily activities. They all dressed in the odd style of clothing that Professor Dumbledore wore to the orphanage. Hermione looked down at her and Tom's attire - gray tunics, clean but pretty worn - and couldn't feel more out of place. _Outsider_, a tiny biting voice whispered within her - the same voice she heard when she browsed bookstores among wealthier patrons in London.

Tom watched a man mix his soup with a spoon, but instead of mixing it by hand, he was waving his stick - or wand, as Dumbledore had called it - at the bowl in a clockwise movement. Tom eyed the nonchalant display of magic with envy. Their first stop would definitely be to a wand shop.

Tom grasped Hermione's hand again, leading her towards a back door out of the pub. He had read on their map that they would need to pass through some kind of enchanted brick wall to enter the Alley.

Once outside again in the brisk London air, Tom stood staring at the jagged brick wall. Dumbledore's directions said absolutely nothing about which bricks to tap. Tom's annoyance only mounted with each impatient tap of Hermione's foot.

Both child's heads whirled around as another patron exited the back door of the Cauldron. Just as the man whipped out his wand to tap the bricks, Tom politely interjected.

"Excuse me sir," he said with a charming smile, "this is our first time visiting Diagon Alley. Could you please help us pass through?"

"Sure m'boy!" the stout man exclaimed. He tapped specific bricks, and all at once the brick wall seemed to dissolve away. "Have fun!" the man said cheerily.

Hermione couldn't dwell on the peculiarity of Tom being nice to strangers, but she supposed maybe he'd be different in the wizarding world. A silly illusion clouded her mind's eye as the wall wore away: Tom sweeping off a horse like a gallant, chivalrous man, looking down at her with kindness twinkling in his eyes, like a knight in shining armor out of her stories. Hermione blushed at the thought. But in the blink of an eye, the mist fogging her mind was gone. Her eyes focused on Tom's calculating - if not mesmerized - stare. Hermione turned to catch her first glimpse of a new world.

It was truly hard not to gape at the sight. There were shops as far as the eye could see on the bustling street, with books, wands, wizard clothing, and magical artifacts in every shop window.

Hermione stood in shock. "This is incredible!" Her eyes simply couldn't swivel about fast enough for her to take it all in.

"Look darling," an elegant-looking blonde woman said from her left exiting a shop, eying the two children's peculiar clothing. "Two mudbloods visiting Diagon Alley."

"Don't get too close," an obviously wealthy man with long platinum hair responded. "Wouldn't want you catching one of their muggle diseases."

A light blush tinged Hermione's cheeks as she received such hateful stares, as if she was nothing more than muck beneath someone's boot. Tom squeezed her hand, glaring back at the couple.

A look that would have left Hermione in frightened tears had no effect on the adult couple, who simply laughed coldly and turned around. "Let's go, Hermione," Tom said tightly, his long fingers coiling around her wrist. "We've wasted enough time."

Hermione couldn't agree more.

They made their way into Ollivander's wand shop, where lots of other children their age had gathered. Tom and Hermione waited until the shop had largely cleared out.

"Excuse me sir," Hermione said, approaching the counter alongside Tom. "Can you help us find our wands?"

"Oh! I nearly didn't see you two there!" a short man who must be Ollivander said.

"Let's help you first then," Ollivander said, leading Hermione around the counter. Tom followed, looking quite curious.

Ollivander shuffled out of an aisle filled with hundreds of small boxes. He placed a handful of the boxes on the counter. "Let's give it a try then!"

He removed the first wand from its box and handed it to Hermione.

"Err, how am I supposed to know if I like it?"

"Not if you like it, if it likes you," Ollivander said with a meaningful smile. Hermione stared at him in confusion. "The wand chooses the witch or wizard," he explained. "Give it a swish," he said, demonstrating the arm movement.

Hermione moved the wand in a circular formation. It suddenly emitted red sparks and flew out of her hand, smashing into another box.

"Well, that one certainly wasn't it. On to the next," Ollivander said unfazed, handing her the next wand in the pile.

Every wand in the pile produced the same results. Hermione found her earlier excitement wearing away to desperation and sadness. _What if no wand chose her?_

"There is a wand I've been storing for a long time. Let's see," the man said muttering to himself and turning away.

Hermione shared a secret look of exasperation with Tom. He graced her with a small smile - which she hoped was meant to reassure her.

Ollivander came out of the back store room and handed a mahogany colored wand to Hermione. _Please let this one like me._ Hermione gave it a swish, and it emitted pleasant blue sparks. Hermione could feel the magic tentatively coursing from her body, itching to be guided by the wand. "It worked!"

Ollivander smiled at her delight. "Phoenix feather, nice and supple Holly, 11 inches," he said, eying the smooth piece of dark wood in Hermione's hand.

"Okay, now that we've got your wand," he said, smiling at her giddiness, "let's move on to you." He turned to Tom.

A similar pattern followed. Ollivander brought out numerous wands with different cores, lengths, and wood types, and nothing worked. Hermione could sense Tom's thinly veiled frustration.

Ollivander brought out another pile. Nothing worked. Tom's fists clenched.

The wandmaker looked at Tom again, an odd light in his eyes. "I wonder..." he murmured. He retreated to the back room again and came out with another wand.

"Try this one," he said.

Tom picked up the pale wand. Something in his gut told him that this would be the one. Sure enough, he waved it and no chaos occurred. He felt his pulsating magic flow pleasantly though the wand.

Ollivander watched the sight with amazement. "Yew, 13 and a half inches, unyielding," he said. "And, quite curiously with the very same Phoenix feather core as your friend," he gestured to Hermione.

"Does that happen often? Two people having the same cores?" Tom queried. Hermione recognized the eager sheen to gain knowledge in his eyes.

"The same cores? Yes. _Twin_ Phoenix feather cores? No," he said.

Tom looked just about ready to fire off another question, but Ollivander held up a hand.

"I'm afraid I'll have to take my long-awaited lunch break," he said with a chuckle. "If you have any questions, feel free to stop by again and ask," he said, smiling warmly.

Tom, a little irritated at not getting his questions answered right then and there, nodded stiffly.

"C'mon Tom," Hermione said, grasping his arm, "we still need to get all these books." She pointed at the school list with barely concealed joy. Tom rolled his eyes. 

* * *

The painted shop door jingled as the two children stepped inside. A little bell sat beneath a large sign that read "Flourish and Blotts." According to Dumbledore's shit instructions, this would be where they bought school books.

Tom eyed Hermione's smaller frame. She was nearly bouncing in excitement. She had wanted to split up with Tom so he could visit the apothecary, but of course he would never allow that. Anything to avoid the terrible squeezing sensation in his chest when they were separated, the all-too-familiar feeling that she wouldn't be coming back...

"Tom! Isn't it amazing!" her cheery voice jostled him from his ominous thoughts.

"Truly. I don't believe I've ever seen books before."

She whacked his arm.

"Ok, let's see," she said, pulling out the list of books. She rattled off several titles they would need, and they made good work of moving about the store.

Tom saw a sign reading "Rare Books" at the far side of the store. Intent on whetting his academic appetite, he tugged Hermione's arm, who was staring off behind him. "Let's go there," he said, pointing.

"I want to go there first," she said gesturing, at the romance aisle with a light blush.

"Why don't we just split up?" she suggested for the second time that day. Tom was her one and only friend, but even his presence grew overbearing with his incessant need to have her nearby.

"I'll be just over there," she said, squeezing his hand.

"Fine. I'll find you in about 15 minutes."

Hermione smiled and went on her way. Tom resisted the urge to follow her retreating figure with his eyes and went toward the rare book section.

He fingered some of the ancient-looking spines on the shelves. One book, Curses Moste Potent by Zacharias Fletcher, caught his eye. Tom felt lost rifling through the book. There was so much to learn, so much power out there that he never realized...

Tom abruptly stood when he realized he'd been reading for close to half an hour. He put the book back on the shelf with a sigh and stalked to Hermione's section of the store.

He passed bookshelf upon bookshelf of fluffy insipid romances before hearing a familiar noise. He froze. Hermione's giggle carried to his ears from the aisle over.

"Give that back!" he heard her say playfully.

Instantly, bitter anger coursed through his veins. Hermione was not allowed to make other friends - he would've thought she'd know that by now. He followed the sound of her laughter with clenched fists. 

* * *

Hermione loved romances. She couldn't tell why Tom made fun of her for reading them. She walked over to the coveted aisle and pulled a slender volume from the shelves. She was excited to see how magical romances compared to the ones she was used to.

As she rounded the aisle to find a place to sit down, she smacked into a hard chest. Her book tumbled to the ground. She looked up startled, with an apology ready on her lips.

"Sorry! Didn't see you there," the boy said. He was taller than her, slightly taller than Tom, even. He wore finely tailored "robes", as the wizards called them. He had dark, mussed-up hair, refined features, and a warm grin.

"Don't be sorry. It was my fault for not looking where I was going," she said ruefully.

"I'm Alphard," the boy said, holding out a hand.

Hermione grasped his larger hand and firmly shook it. "Hermione."

"That's a nice name. But you must get that all the time."

She chuckled. "Not often enough."

"I take it you'll be new at Hogwarts this year?" he asked earnestly. Hermione nodded. "Me too."

Alphard's blue eyes found her fallen book. "Oh, I forgot I knocked that out of your hands." He bent to pick it up.

"Gilderoy Lockhart's Fifty Shades of Rouge?" he said, a laugh just about bursting from his lips. He sized Hermione up and down. "Wouldn't have pegged you for that kind of reader."

Hermione's cheeks burned scarlet. "I just picked up the book! I had no idea what it's about!" she exclaimed, flustered and amused. "Now, give it here," she said smiling.

Alphard lifted the book just out of reach.

"Give that back!" she said with a giggle, jumping slightly but still falling way too short to reach the novel.

"Hermione," Tom's cold voice sounded behind her, making her freeze. He said her name more like a statement than a question.

"Oh, Tom!" Hermione said as she turned around, not able to eliminate all of the nerves from her voice. "You were supposed to be here 15 minutes ago."

He ignored her. Alphard watched the interaction with interest. "And who might this be?" Tom said tightly, looking at Alphard.

"This is Alphard. He'll be a first year at Hogwarts as well."

Hermione could easily recognize Tom's mask. After an awkward pause, Hermione said, "Well, Tom and I had best be on our way. See you at Hogwarts!" she added, smiling at Alphard.

Alphard broke his curious staring match with Tom to return Hermione's smile. "See you around."

Hermione tugged Tom to the counter, where they paid for their purchases with Dumbledore's gold. She could feel his pent up fury as they exited the store. She glanced sheepishly at him through her eyelashes.

If Hermione thought this transgression would be forgotten, she had another thing coming, Tom thought furiously as he grasped her wrist hard enough to make her wince.

He was eerily quiet as they made the rest of their required purchases, save for his relentless grip on her wrist like a prison shackle. After their school robes were purchased, Tom finally spoke up.

"We're heading back. Now."

"Tom, can't we stay a little bit longer?" Hermione said. As soon as the phrase left her mouth, she knew she was pushing it.

He let the full force of his infuriated glare hit her. "I thought I said _now."_

Hermione knew that tone better than she knew her mother's voice. She stared at her feet in submission and allowed Tom to tug her back to the Leaky Cauldron.

Hermione's hope of a kinder, gentler Tom faded away as quickly as the thick barrier dividing the world she knew and the world she would come to know. He would never be her knight in shining armor. She would have no happy ending with Tom.

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**What'd you guys think? Like Alphard? Scared of Tom? Excited for Hogwarts? I know I am *evil smirk***

**Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys - I'm alive! **

**So my plan to update every Friday totally failed. I've been getting a grand total of 3 hours of sleep per night for the past few weeks (due to extreme amounts of homework/procrastination) and I've been using Friday as my day to sleep for 18 hours. Hopefully now my sleep schedule will be back on track, and I can dedicate the time that this fic (and all my reviewers) deserve!**

**Right now I have so much work I _should_ be doing, but I pushed it all off to update. So I hope you guys enjoy :)**

**Thank you to my amazing reviewers:**

**Amrose, lala, alicebrandycullen, TheAlabasterPhoenyx, aphorisms, Voorpret, SakiPants, Guest, KhaalidaNyx, lalyta8, DauntlessSlytherinTribute, LK-HoGwArTs-hEaDgIrL, Silvermist07, Cassie-D1, PinkSlytherin, dark-wolf-howl.**

**Not sure if anyone noticed it in the last chapter, but what boy (who we all know and love) had the exact same wand that chose Hermione? *le hint***

**And to answer one reviewer, there will be a time jump in the future. I'm not about to drag everyone through every single day of their first few years! Also, I'm glad that at least one reviewer laughed at my Fifty Shades of Grey dumb joke hahahahaha**

**On to the chapter!**

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Hermione opened her eyes in a flash. She blinked as they adjusted to the light filtering in from the small grimy window. Her lips broke into a grin.

She had been waking up periodically over the course of the night – about 6 times, if she counted right – and each time she prayed it would be morning already.

_This is it. Today is the day._

She sprang out of bed, throwing the threadbare sheets to the floor. Her legs carried her to her destination: Tom's room.

"Tom," she shouted, tapping his door impatiently, not caring if she woke the others up. She had learned the hard way to knock first before entering Tom's room some time ago.

Her taps turned to bangs. "Wake up! It's September 1st!"

Just as her fist poised to fly into the door again, it opened. There stood Tom, looking alert and already dressed. He held a trunk in his hand.

"You're yelling at me to wake up when you haven't even gotten dressed yet?"

"I had to make sure you were awake! You're the late riser here."

Tom chuckled softly. "Go change and meet me out here in five minutes. You better not make us late."

Hermione rolled her eyes. There was a bigger chance that she'd be struck by lightning on her way to claim a winning lottery ticket.

"You better be here waiting," she countered. She whirled around and sped off to her room, closing the door behind her for privacy. After dragging a comb through her caramel locks, freshening up in the bathroom, and getting dressed in record time, she grabbed her already-packed trunk and headed out to meet Tom.

"Alright," she said when her eyes landed on him, "let's go."

"We're eating breakfast here before we leave. You don't want to be starving for the entire train ride, do you?" Tom said. He eyed her struggling to lug her trunk. "Leave that in your room. I'll come back up for it after breakfast."

Hermione sped down the staircase to the mess hall, and even Tom had a little spring in his step. After a quick breakfast – 8 and a half minutes, Hermione counted – Tom made his way back upstairs. He needed two trips to bring both trunks.

Hermione giggled as she watched him set her trunk down, slightly red in the face. "Not so strong are you, Tommy-boy?"

Tom gritted his teeth at the nickname. She knew he hated it. "At Hogwarts, you'll carry your own stuff around," he said with a light glare. Hermione laughed harder.

Mrs. Cole hobbled into the foyer from a hallway to the right. Hermione was thankful it wasn't Parker driving them. She shuddered at the thought.

"Oh, you children are already ready," Mrs. Cole said, with slight surprise evident in her feeble voice. "Let's pile into the car, then."

Hermione could also detect slight relief in her expression. Maybe she was glad to see the two odd children go.

Despite his vow, Tom still carried Hermione luggage and placed it in the trunk of Mrs. Cole's ancient-looking car. Hermione smiled when he wasn't looking.

The two children squeezed into the back of the car. Hermione's hand found Tom's, and he gave it a squeeze. After a drive that took much too long in Hermione's opinion, they arrived at King's Cross station.

Mrs. Cole turned off the engine. "I suppose I should see you two off-"

"That won't be necessary," Tom said hastily. "It will be less … depressing to say goodbye here."

Hermione struggled not to burst out laughing at the blatant lie. Tom gave her a warning look. "Yes," Hermione lied.

An awkward silence ensued. Mrs. Cole seemed to be fumbling for appropriate words to say. Tom looked like a caged panther, ready to tear off the door handle and escape.

"Well, you children be good at your boarding school. If there's ever a problem, let me know," she added forcibly.

"Of course," Tom and Hermione chorused.

"Goodbye," Tom said. "Bye Mrs. Cole. Thank you for bringing us," Hermione added.

Tom stepped out of the car, allowing the fresh scent of freedom to fill his lungs. After 11 years in that hellhole, he was finally free.

He moved to the back of the car to grab their trunks. Hermione stopped him when he moved to grab hers.

"I can carry it. It's not that heavy," she said, swatting at his hands.

Several minutes later, they were inside the doors of one of London's busiest stations. "Where's Platform 9 and 3/4?" Hermione wondered aloud.

"If I knew, would we be standing here looking around like idiots?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at his biting tone. "Then let's go check if we can find it on that map over there, so we look less idiotic."

Tom saw the large poster she was gesturing to. They walked over to it, although Hermione was slightly out of breath. The blasted trunk really _was_ heavier than it looked, not that she'd be asking Tom for any help.

Tom's eyes scanned the map. "Here's platform 9," he pointed. "And here's platform 10. But I don't see 9 and 3/4."

"Well it is a somewhat odd name for a platform," Hermione said, her brow furrowed in thought. "Maybe it's kept hidden so muggles don't see it?"

Tom's face was a mask, but Hermione could see in his eyes that he was impressed by her quick thinking. "That makes sense. Maybe if we head over in that general direction we'll find it."

They made their way over to platforms 9 and 10, but there wasn't a platform 9 and 3/4 in sight. "Perhaps it's enchanted or something?" Hermione panted, setting her trunk down.

"I don't remember reading anything about that in Hogwarts: A History," Tom frowned.

Hermione plopped down on her trunk, feeling deflated. "Maybe we shoul-"

"Look!" Tom hissed. Hermione jerked her head around.

They watched as a ginger-haired mother walked with her son up to the wall between platforms 9 and 10. She furtively glanced around, and then helped push the boy _into_ the barrier.

Hermione gasped. "So we'll have to run through the wall!"

"C'mom," Tom tugged her to her feet. They grabbed empty carts that had been left on the platform and hoisted their trunks onto them.

"You go first," Tom offered. Hermione nodded.

She grasped her cart until her knuckles turned white. _Now or never._ She ran straight at the wall and prayed she wouldn't break her face on the bricks.

She suddenly felt an odd sensation, like falling water dancing over her body. When she opened her eyes, she was too in awe to gasp.

All around were families and students, hugging and boarding the Express. Hermione felt a twinge in her chest when she saw a woman kiss her young daughter goodbye.

Hermione felt something hard jab her in the side. She looked down at the cart shoving into her slender frame, and glared at the dark-haired boy pushing it.

"Tom! That hurt!"

"Maybe somebody shouldn't have been standing too close to the barrier," Tom said, glancing around the bustling platform. Something in his demeanor changed. His eyes hardened slightly and his posture stiffened.

Hermione abandoned her petulance. "Tom? What is it?"

"Nothing," he said convincingly, his face a mask. Hermione let it drop.

"Well then, let's board the train," she said cheerily.

Tom followed behind her. Seeing all the families and parents on the platform … it made him feel sick. The sooner all the fake heartfelt goodbyes were out of his sight, the better.

A few steps away from the train, Tom grasped Hermione's wrist tightly and tugged a little. She turned around.

"You'll remember the discussion we had last week, won't you?"

Hermione gulped, thinking back to that day when they returned from Diagon Alley. Tom was almost as angry as she'd ever seen him. He had warned her what the consequences would be if she developed any relationships closer than formal acquaintances.

Hermione nodded and quietly said, "Yes."

An image of Alphard Black burned in Tom's mind. "See to it that you don't forget," he hissed.

"Now, come along," he ordered, pulling her up the steps and onto the train.

Hermione looked around, seeing all sorts of students filling compartments. The older students were already dressed in their school uniforms, so it was easy to identify fellow first-years.

A ginger-haired first year girl smiled at her and beckoned for her to join their compartment. Hermione smiled back. "Tom," she whispered, tugging at his sleeve, "Let's sit in that compartment."

Tom met her pleading eyes coldly. "No. We'll sit in the empty one just over there."

Hermione stared down at her feet. Is this how it would always be at Hogwarts? She would forever be Tom's shadow, and would never get to make friends like a normal girl?

They began to move further down the train, and Hermione met the eyes of the ginger girl and smiled apologetically. The girl looked confused.

Tom shoved open the door of the empty compartment and hauled both of their trunks into overhead storage. Hermione sat down on the cushioned bench by the window, and Tom sat beside her, pulling her hand into his.

Hermione stared out the window at the parents waving goodbye, but her eyes were glossy and unseeing. She refused to return Tom's attention.

She heard Tom sigh behind her. "Look Hermione, I know you're angry about our little … arrangement right now." Hermione turned around. "But trust me, it's for the best. You'll come to see that you like it better this way – with me – alright?" His eyes were wide and earnest.

Hermione knew that there was no changing his mind, so she nodded. Tom smiled.

Just then, the door to the compartment slid open. Two students seemed to be in the middle of an argument.

"-almost missed the train because of you, Wally."

"It was your fault," the girl said, examining her nails. She stepped into the compartment first, followed by the boy she was arguing with.

The last occupant entered behind the two arguing students, and Hermione felt her stomach sink when she saw him. Alphard. _Oh God, why here?_

Alphard's eyes seemed to fall on the two familiar, seated first-years at the same time as the other boy.

"Oh, sorry to barge in here," the boy said. "My name's Cygnus Black. Third year. This is my sister Walburga and my brother Alphard."

"We've met," Tom said, his cold eyes fixed on Alphard. The boy in question shifted uncomfortably. Cygnus interrupted the awkward pause by moving to sit on the opposing bench. Alphard joined him.

"Well, I'm going to go find Druella. See ya," Walburga said, her pin-straight brown hair swishing as she left.

"So…" Cygnus began, shifting in his seat. "Are you guys excited to be going to Hogwarts?"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but Tom cut her off. "Naturally, we are."

"What houses do you want to be in?" Cygnus queried.

"Slytherin, of course."

"Good answer," he said with a grin. "Our whole family's been in Slytherin since the dawn of time," he said with a chuckle.

Alphard was eying Hermione intently, and she hoped he wouldn't attempt to engage her in conversation. She really didn't want to have to break up a fight before she even arrived at Hogwarts.

"What about you, Hermione? What house do you want to be in?" Alphard spoke up. _Now I know that the universe hates me, _Hermione thought.

She glanced out of the corner of her eye at Tom, but he seemed to be interested in hearing her answer. She cleared her throat. "Um, well, all of the houses seem to have their merits. But I think I like Ravenclaw," she paused, glancing at Tom again, "and Slytherin of course."

Tom looked a little smug. Alphard smiled. "Well, if you don't get Slytherin, Ravenclaw is the next best house. Anything's better than Gryffindor," he said.

"And we're still not sure if Hufflepuff is a house," Cygnus deadpanned.

Alphard and Cygnus burst into laughter. Hermione cracked a smile at their brotherly friendship.

She wanted to ask if they knew how much longer the ride would be, but she held her tongue in case that would cause Tom to lash out at her.

Hermione jumped a little when the compartment door slid open again. A boy with platinum blond shoulder-length hair and finely tailored robes walked in.

"Abraxas! We were wondering where you were!" Cygnus exclaimed.

"Father made me sit with the Princes," he said, taking a seat. "He thought it best for me to socialize with a family that could potentially be of use to us." The boy's grey eyes swept over Hermione and Tom. "And who are these two?"

"This is…," Cygnus paused. "I don't think you told us your names."

"I'm Tom, this is Hermione," Tom said curtly.

"Don't you have last names?" Abraxas sneered.

Tom leveled his glare. "Riddle and Granger, if you must know."

"I'm Abraxas, Abraxas Malfoy." Abraxas tapped a finger, which was adorned with a gaudy ring, to his chin. "Hmm, I don't think I've ever heard those last names before." His eyes hardened. "Are you halfbloods?"

Tom had done plenty of research about blood statuses in the wizarding world, but since neither he nor Hermione knew who their parents were, he had no clue. But he _did_ know that halfbloods were thought to be superior to muggleborns.

Cygnus looked expectant, and Alphard leaned forward attentively. "Yes, we are," Tom answered confidently.

Abraxas sneered, and then shrugged. "Better than mudbloods, I suppose."

Hermione quickly decided that she did not like this boy.

* * *

They were standing amidst a crowd of first-years anxiously waiting outside the doors of the Great Hall. Any minute now they'd be sorted.

Tom had pulled Hermione away from the imbeciles who had shared a compartment with them. Tom's blood still boiled at the condescension that rolled off of Malfoy in waves.

Tom looked down at Hermione, who was wringing her hands. "Don't be nervous," he said, smoothing out the furrow between her brows with his hand. "Just make sure you're sorted into Slytherin."

Hermione gulped.

The immense doors of the Great Hall slowly creaked open. All of the first-years made noises of admiration at the beautiful, enormous room, with four incredibly long tables spread out for members of each house.

The first-years followed an older professor up to the front of the room. The seated students looked bored, but applauded nonetheless, thinking back to when they stood in their shoes.

Headmaster Dippet, in his monotone voice, went over general rules for the first-years to follow, in addition to a half-hearted welcoming speech.

The speech was torture for Tom. He just wanted to be sorted.

_Finally _the ceremony began. One by one, students were called up to sit on a tiny chair at the center of the room. Then, an old hat was placed on their heads, which shouted out a house name. Since students were not called up in alphabetical order, Hermione felt even more nervous.

After nearly half of the students were sorted, it happened. "Riddle, Tom!"

Tom swept onto the stage and sat down confidently on the stool. The hat was placed on his head.

Hermione locked eyes with Tom. Seconds later, the hat shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

Tom looked smug, and cast one last glance at Hermione before sauntering over to the Slytherin table. His housemates haphazardly applauded, looking at their newest member curiously.

More students were called to the stool. Finally, the hat shouted, "Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione felt like a convict walking to the executioner. She sat down at the edge of the stool, and her eyes fell shut as the feathery weight of the hat was placed atop her curly head.

* * *

**lol am i evil for the semi-cliffhanger?**

**What house do you want Hermione to be sorted into? Let me know! I still haven't decided.**

**Please reviewwww! I will be clicking back every 14 seconds to check :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Excuse me. What. WHAT.**

**I got like a billion reviews for the last chapter. YOU GUYS ROCK. As my way of saying thank you, this chapter is my longest yet.**

**Everyone's input was taken into consideration, and I hope you guys are okay with my final choice.**

**I just wanted to respond to one reviewer's critique of my portrayal of Hermione. Yes, Hermione is way OOC. I intended her to be that way. The point of this fic is not to convey Hermione as she was in the books – the smart yet brave and bold Gryffindor we've come to love. It would be extremely odd for this Hermione to have the same qualities. This Hermione is a product of the 1940's, not the 1990's, and has spent her _entire_ life in Tom's shadow. Please take that into account when judging her docile nature.**

**Anyhoo, a HUGE thank you once again to all the reviewers. Getting all those reviews definitely pushed me to update sooner!**

**Lisa, gaia, ****Person P, LK-HoGwArTs-hEaDgIrL, Guest, SakiPants, konoha kid, Emperor's Sister, FairlyJane, cocoartist, princess-alice-malfoy-granger, Voorpret, TheAlabasterPhoenyx, Guest, Myne, StalkingMalfoy, Guest, Babygirlz, SuperPotterWhoLockFan, magicmidnightstorm, MedianocheGlow12043, Guest, EndlessDelenaObsessedDesire, Elased, nostalgiakills, Jubeichanssie, LadyRana, rolllikeabufflo, XDpersonXD, sbolzz, Glitter Poisoned My Blood, DauntlessSlytherinTribute, missy-evelyn, Annamolly, Gimana Nanti51, EuphrosyneHysteria, PrincessHermione1234, Guest, PrincesLynx, CassieRenee333, KhaalidaNyx.**

* * *

The white noise in her head reached a crescendo. Hermione stared at the sea of faces - eyes glossy, seeing but unseeing – and listened to the hat's soft-spoken words.

Tom stared at the girl on the stool. _What is taking so long? _It had taken mere seconds for him to be sorted.

Just as the students could not fidget in their seats for another moment, the hat seemed to arrive at a decision. Tom sensed the pregnant pause and raised his grey eyes to match Hermione's.

RAVENCLAW!

A breath of air shakily found its way down Hermione's lungs and to her heart, which was pumping faster than it ever had. The polite applause from the table her legs were carrying her towards faded into the background, morphing into a rhythmic beat. _Tom. Tom. Tom._

She had disobeyed.

Hermione was not a religious person, but in that moment she wished for a god to pray to.

She took her seat at the far end of the table, between a sullen looking boy and a blonde girl with a vacant expression, and cast her eyes down at her lap. She could feel a stare burning into the back of her head, a stare which kept her from appreciating the delicious feast spread before her – far more food than she'd ever seen.

"You upset about being sorted here?" a boy to her left asked between bites of meat.

Hermione glanced up, assuming that the question was directed at her. Instead, he was watching the dejected boy she had noticed walking over.

"No, no Ravenclaw is great," the boy said quietly, his eyes downcast. "I just … was hoping for something else."

Someone guffawed to her right. "No one _ever_ wants Ravenclaw as their first choice."

"It's always one of the two _glorious_ houses – Gryffindor or Slytherin."

"Know how many first-years I've seen cry about being sorted here? Loads," an obviously older boy chimed in.

The boys then dissolved into a conversation about how each one felt during their sorting, and what house they had been hoping for. Hermione stopped listening.

She tried not to stare at the brown-haired boy, who had resumed his crestfallen state. Something in his glossy eyes and disappointed pout made her heart twinge. She edged closer to him on the bench. Perhaps she could make one friend before her untimely death.

"Hey," she said.

He glanced up in surprise at the soft female voice, spoken quiet enough so that no one else would hear, but loud enough for it to carry across the ancient mahogany table.

"Hey," he said.

Hermione twiddled her thumbs. "I overheard that you wanted to be in a different house."

The boy's eyes hardened with distrust. "Want to make fun of me like the others?"

"No, no!" Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. She leaned closer. "I just wanted to let you know … you aren't the only one who was hoping to be sorted into another house."

The boy's mouth fell open a little in shock. "Where did you want to be placed?"

"Slytherin."

He was positively gaping now.

"Well, it's a long story. I didn't really want to be sorted into Slytherin. It was just kind of expected of me."

The boy nodded. "I know exactly what you mean. Most of my family has been in Gryffindor, and that's what I was hoping for." He frowned. "Guess I just don't have the bravery."

Hermione's eyes softened. "Don't say that. Just because we aren't Gryffindors doesn't mean we're incapable of showing courage."

A slight smile tinged the boy's cheeks. "What's your name, by the way?"

"Hermione."

"I'm Neville."

Hermione smiled. For the first time since the sorting, she was filled with a light, airy feeling.

Neville shifted in his seat. "Even though this wasn't what I expected, it's nice to make a friend," he said, nervously smiling.

Here it is. The opportunity to openly disregard Tom's orders. Hermione felt the stare on her back burn hotter.

She smiled back.

* * *

Tom struggled to contain himself. His magic was currently attempting to burst from his body and murder anyone who crossed his path. He had ignored four consecutive first years attempting to introduce themselves. Besides, they soon lost interest, since the Malfoy brat made sure to tell absolutely _everyone_ that he was of lesser blood status. At least now the imbeciles stayed away.

He had spent the entire welcoming feast seething at Hermione's sorting. Then, the girl decided to make the flames of his fiery fury burn hotter by daring to converse with another male.

Was she _mental_?

The only thing that got Tom through the feast was the thought of cornering her afterwards. But then his plans were ruined. The prefects of each house were instructed to escort all first years to their common rooms. As he would need to know where the dungeons were, he had to abandon his pursuit of Hermione. For now.

The prefect hissed a password at a seemingly inconsequential stone wall. Tom memorized its exact placement so as not to get lost later on. The wall dissolved away, revealing a lavishly decorated common room.

There were black leather sofas, an immense fireplace, and a black stone floor. Light from the school's lake – the Black Lake, the prefect had said – filtered in through the painted glass windows, giving the room an eerie atmosphere. It was perfect. _This is the place I should have grown up in, not that hellhole._

The elegant ambience distracted Tom – if only for a moment – from his thoughts about Hermione. And then, like a flood, they crashed into his mind.

She should be here. With him, where she belonged.

Was she already making new friends… forgetting him? His fury abated for a moment and turned to numbness.

Tom fought against the twinge in his chest. It was better to give in to the anger – he had learned this at the orphanage.

Tom trudged up the stairs to the dormitories. He was told that he'd have a quad. He walked toward his assigned dormitory, pulling his trunk behind him.

He pushed the thick, dark wood door open, revealing four huge beds with corresponding dressers, laid out at different parts of the immense room. A thick rug lay at his feet.

Three boys sat at their beds, arranging their things into the room that would be their home for the next year. They glanced up when Tom entered, but resumed their efforts when they saw it was only him.

Something told Tom that they wouldn't be so docile if he had said he was a muggleborn.

Regardless, their indifference fanned the flames of his anger. He was so used to being overlooked at the orphanage, forced to assimilate into the crowd of muggle dunces. _Oh well_, Tom told himself, _they will learn._

_And so will she._

* * *

Hermione sat at the armoire, peering deeply into her reflection.

Roughly two hours earlier, she had trekked up the spiral staircase leading to Ravenclaw Tower, along with the other students. As she'd read in Hogwarts: A History, while other houses had passwords to enter their common rooms, Ravenclaw had a riddle.

Hermione's thoughts were temporarily drawn from her impending doom when they entered the common room. Her mouth had fallen open at the domed ceiling, painted with intricate golden stars across a midnight blue background. There was even a marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw herself.

Roughly twenty minutes earlier, she had finished unpacking and had politely introduced herself to her new roommate. She was glad that she only had one; she wasn't ready to deal with three other girls.

The girl in question was somewhat odd, if Hermione could claim that of a girl other than herself. She mostly hummed to herself.

Hermione was bored. She stared at her reflection just for something to do. Every few moments she would wish she was with Tom, but that wish would dissipate at the thought of his fury.

At least here in her room she could pretend their eventual confrontation wasn't going to happen.

Hermione pulled herself off of the chair and moved to her trunk, which she hadn't fully unpacked yet, and pulled out a copy of one of her favorite new stories, The Tales of Beedle the Bard. She laid down on her fluffy four-poster bed, a welcome change from her cot at the orphanage.

After several pages, Hermione stopped to smile. _Tom might really enjoy this-_

Hermione stopped her train of thought, mentally cursing herself for thinking of him again. Perhaps the only way to fully force her thoughts away from him was to engage in actual conversation.

She turned her head, looking to see if her roommate – Luna, she thought she'd said – was busy. The blonde girl was in a similar position on her own bed, reading from a magazine.

"Hey, Luna?"

"Yes?" the girl answered in her soft voice, not looking up from her magazine.

"Um, I just wanted to talk to you. I'm pretty bored and, quite frankly, depressed, and-

"There's no such thing as boredom," Luna said dreamily, raising her blue eyes to meet Hermione's. She softly smiled. "The mind is infinite – it can take you anywhere. So, if you use your imagination, you'll never be bored. Or even depressed," she finished matter-of-factly.

Hermione sighed, and rolled over to fully face Luna. "That's just it. I'm really trying to avoid my mind right now."

Luna's blonde eyebrow quirked. "You should never avoid your own mind. Even if it's filled with Wrackspurts."

"Wrackspurts?"

"They're tiny invisible creatures that fly in people's ears and make their brains go fuzzy."

"Ah."

Luna's eyes lit up. "Do you want me to check if they've gotten in your ears?"

"Er… sure?"

Luna hopped off her bed and dug through her trunk. She brought out what looked like a case for eyeglasses.

She stepped towards Hermione. "These will allow me to see the Wrackspurts." She pulled out a strangely bright-colored pair of circular frames and put them on.

After several moments of awkward staring, she sighed. "Nope, no Wrackspurts."

Hermione didn't know whether to feel relieved or weirded out. She settled for a mixture, forcing a tiny laugh. "Thanks for checking."

Luna returned to her bed, plopping down on the covers. Before she could pick up her magazine again, Hermione spoke up. "Luna? Where did you learn about Wrackspurts?"

"From my mother," Luna said quietly.

"She must be very smart to know about those creatures. I haven't read anything about them yet."

"She's dead."

"What?" Hermione was taken aback by the bluntness of her tone, so different from its former dreamy state.

"My mother - she's dead."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said genuinely. "My own mother is dead. Or at least I think she is." She sighed and stared at her toes. "I never knew her."

"That is sad," Luna said, smiling sadly. "But at least we can see the Thestrals."

Hermione didn't know why, but she could tell she was going to like this odd girl.

* * *

Hermione awoke the next morning doused in sweat. Instead of dreaming her usual nightmare, she had dreamed of Tom, and a strange green light, and her lifeless body.

She shuddered.

Hopefully the time spent apart would help simmer Tom's anger.

She jumped out of bed, eager for her first day of classes, but dreading the punishment for her disobedience.

She hopped in the shower. After freshening up, she raked a comb through her curly tresses – which still ended up looking bushy anyway – and stepped outside to an empty dormitory. Luna must have already gone down to the common room.

She grabbed her bag and descended the winding staircase, shocked that it was largely empty. "Where is everyone?" she asked a lone older girl seated on the sofa.

"Most have already gone down to their classes," the girl said, examining her nails. A shiny prefect badge glinted off of her robes. "Oh," she said, remembering herself. "Do you need help getting to your class?"

"I'll manage," Hermione said with a tight smile. She shifted the bag on her shoulder and stepped out of the common room doors.

_Slam._

Hermione blinked the stars out of her eyes, trying to get her vision to clear. When it did, her eyes focused on the enraged expression of Tom Riddle.

He grasped her shoulders with his long, spindly fingers and gave her a shake. He leaned close, his voice a deadly whisper at her ear. "Did you think you could avoid me?"

He wrenched at her arm painfully. "_Did_ _you_?"

"Tom, Tom let go! You're hurting me!" Hermione whimpered when his grip tightened. Her head was pressed against the stone wall where he had first banged it against.

"My orders were simple enough," he continued, his pearly teeth gritted. Suddenly his eyes flashed. "You thought you could escape me, didn't you? You begged the hat to place you in your precious _Ravenclaw,_" he spat, "all so you could leave me?"

Tears pricked Hermione's eyes. "No Tom, no, I never-"

Tom now began twisting her arm backwards.

"Will you please just let me explain?" Hermione exclaimed between panicked breaths.

Tom's expression was inscrutable. After several more pain-filled moments, he released her.

Hermione sank slightly against the wall, lifting a palm to gently caress her bruised arm.

"You want to explain? Talk," Tom said, his voice steely and unforgiving. He looked at her pitiable position with cold eyes.

Hermione subconsciously wrapped her arms around herself. "I never meant to be sorted into Ravenclaw. I was wishing for Slytherin. But the hat-"

Some voice she had never heard before told her it would be unwise to mention what the hat told her - that it was imperative she kept it a secret.

"The hat what?" Tom said, crossing his arms.

"The hat was set on Ravenclaw," she finished. Hermione lifted a hand imploringly and rested it on Tom's chest. "Please believe me. And just because we're in different houses – or I make a few friends – doesn't mean anything has to change!" she said beseechingly. "I never want to leave you, Tom."

"You're my best friend," thinking quickly, she added, "my most important friend."

A little of the stiffness in Tom's shoulders wore away.

Hermione noticed the changes in his demeanor and tried to smile. "I know that you're going to make friends in Slytherin. But I'm not worried. I know you'll always care about me."

She threw her arms around his slim frame. Tom hesitatingly lifted his arms to return the embrace.

When they broke apart, the furious anger had left Tom's eyes. "Do you mean it?"

"Every word."

A tiny smile tugged at Tom's lips, but he resisted it. His eyes lowered to the hand that was rubbing her bruised arm.

"You know I didn't mean that," he said ruefully. "You know I would never really hurt you."

Hermione knew no such thing, but she just wanted the entire confrontation to be forgotten, so she said, "I know."

Tom fell in step beside Hermione, and carried her bag for her.

"Do you have any idea where we're going?" Hermione asked.

"Well, our first class was supposed to be Transfiguration, but there isn't much time left."

Hermione gasped. "I missed my first class!?"

Tom chuckled. "So did I. Just say you were feeling sick, or got lost. I'm sure the professors will understand."

"What kind of impression is that – missing the very first class of the year!" Hermione exclaimed. She brought a frustrated palm to her forehead.

"A bad one. But it's not like you can go back in time and change it, so quit whining," Tom said. They reached the Entrance Hall. "Besides, if you were in class, I wouldn't get to show you the dungeons."

Some of Hermione's panic wore away, and a smile found its way on to her cheeks. "You'll show me?"

"Isn't that what I just said?"

* * *

Hermione lugged her bag up the stairs, intending to take a nice nap once she reached the tower. It had been a long day, but her shoulders felt freer with the whole confrontation behind her.

Her classes had been fascinating, but she was worn out. Tom had been in most of them – Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Potions. She had Charms and Care of Magical Creatures with the Gryffindors, and Etiquette with Slytherin and Hufflepuff girls.

She was just about to hear the riddle from the bronze eagle-shaped knocker when a whisper startled her.

"Hey! Hermione!"

Hermione whirled around, having had enough surprises outside the common room door.

"Alphard!"

Alphard stepped out of the shadows and walked up, a big grin on his face.

"How long have you been standing there?" Hermione said.

"About twenty minutes. I was waiting to see you."

A light blush colored Hermione's cheeks. She had the sudden urge to glance over her shoulder for Tom. The tentative agreement they had just made about her making other friends seemed flimsy at best, and she didn't want to do anything that would reawaken his anger.

Instead, she resisted the urge and grinned back at Alphard.

"At least we've got four classes together. So you'll be seeing a good amount of me."

Alphard let out an awkward cough, and Hermione's cheeks flamed. "Uh, not of like, my body, I meant-"

Alphard broke the tension with a loud laugh. Hermione giggled lightly at the situation.

"You've got quite the way with words, Hermione."

Hermione whacked him on the arm.

The easygoing grin slowly disappeared from Alphard's face. "Hermione… I've been meaning to ask you something."

Hermione frowned a little. "Yes?"

"You and Tom are … friends, right?"

"Yes, we are."

"And does Tom …," Alphard looked down at his shoes abashedly for a moment. "Treat you alright?"

"Tom treats me just fine," Hermione said. Her arm throbbed with each syllable.

Alphard didn't look convinced. "Well, that's good. After seeing you guys on the train, I was a little worried." He chuckled tightly.

Hermione forced a laugh. "Thank you for your concern, Alphard, but there's no reason to be worried."

His eyes fell on her weary arms lifting her school bag. "Oh! I apologize," he said, his perfect manners clear as day. "Let me carry that for you."

"It's alright, I've got it," Hermione said. "And I'm stronger than I look. I could probably beat you in an arm-wrestling match," she said, feigning arrogance.

Alphard's dark brow quirked. "What's an arm-wrestling match?"

_Don't reveal who you are_, Tom's voice said to her. "Er, it's when two people clasp hands and try to force the other's arm down. I used to play it all the time at home," she finished.

"I'll have to challenge you to an arm-wrestling match, then," Alphard said. A pause. "So where is home?"

"What?"

"Where did you grow up?" His next words came out rushed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"No, no," Hermione waved a hand, "you aren't prying. It's just, it's been a long day. How about you meet me here tomorrow night and we'll talk about our homes?"

Alphard smiled. "Great. See you then," he said, turning and retreating the way he came.

* * *

Under the safety of her covers that night, Hermione chastised herself. _Stupid stupid stupid_. She had succeeded in putting off the discussion about her upbringing, but now she had provided a time and a place to tell Alphard everything. She would need to make up a cover story fast.

Hermione sighed, tossing this way and that, but her stresses were soon forgotten as she sank into the deep embrace of sleep, with a certain boy on her mind.

* * *

**Yep. She's a Ravenclaw. Even if you wanted her to be a Slytherin or Gryffindor, I hope you'll come to like my choice!**

**Like seeing Luna and Neville? What other characters from different time periods would you like to see? Trust me my friends, anything can happen *devious smirk***

**Please let me know your favorite parts and the parts you think sucked by reviewing. And keep in mind, the more reviews I get, the more pressured I feel to update... :)**


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